Chapter 102
“I, uh, I have somewhere else to be p>
“Everyone’s inside. You should at least show your face, have one drink with us. Do it as a favor to me, alright p>
Zebulon cleared his throat. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of disrespecting you p>
Michael paused for a second, surprised. He’d offered a small courtesy, and Zebulon was acting like he’d been invited to join the royal court.
“Well then, I’ll have to properly thank you, Mr. Sullivan, for gracing us with your presence p>
Zebulon followed Michael inside. The restaurant was a sprawling, antique-style manor with three distinct courtyards. It featured secluded gardens, covered walkways, and a classic rock garden with a koi pond, creating an atmosphere of refined elegance.
As they walked, Zebulon’s eyes darted around, searching for Penelope. But the private rooms were all shielded by drawn curtains, making it impossible to see inside.
They continued to the innermost courtyard, which was far quieter and more serene than the bustling outer areas. Here, even the servers moved with hushed footsteps along the winding paths.
Only when they entered a private room did the lively sound of conversation break the silence.
Zebulon’s gaze immediately fell on Theodore Stapleton, seated at the head of the table. Noticing an empty seat beside him, Zebulon’s mind started turning, and he made a move to walk over.
“Mr. Sullivan, have a seat,” Michael said, stopping him. He gestured to a vacant chair near the door.
Zebulon’s expression soured. “I just want to have a quick word with Theodore p>
“Our Theodore doesn’t like to be disturbed while he’s eating. Perhaps another time, Mr. Sullivan.” Michael kept a firm hand on Zebulon’s arm, guiding him toward the seat.
“Actually, I have other plans. I won’t be sitting down p>
Michael’s friendly demeanor vanished, his smile fading instantly.
“My mistake. I shouldn’t have presumed to drag you in here p>
Zebulon, however, seemed oblivious to Michael’s change in tone.
“You all enjoy yourselves. I’ll be going p>
A young man in a loud shirt sitting nearby snorted. “What’s wrong, Mr. Sullivan? Don’t like the seat? I could switch with you, if you want p>
Zebulon shot him a disdainful look. “People sit where they belong. Your spot suits you perfectly p>
“Hey, you’ve got a point there. I wouldn’t dare dream of sitting next to Theodore. That’s Mr. Jackson’s seat, after all p>
The remark made Zebulon’s face burn with humiliation. He spun around and stormed out.
Michael rubbed his nose. “Well, I guess no good deed goes unpunished p>
Zebulon hadn’t been invited tonight, which meant he wasn’t considered
worthy of a seat at the table,
Michael had tried to do an old
classmate a favor, and in return, he’d gotten snubbed.
“All ego and no talent,” the man scoffed.
Michael took his seat and showed Theodore the bottle of wine he’d brought.
Theodore, having just finished a
conversation with the person next to
him
glanced at the bottle, whion
was still caked in dirt. “This is the fine wine you were talking about p>
“My father buried this thirty years ago. It’s a family heirloom, meant to be opened at my sister’s wedding But she’s decided she’s never getting married, so… Anyway, my point is, you can’t buy this stuff p>
He popped the cork, ready to pour a glass for Theodore.
But Theodore covered his glass with his hand. “I appreciate the thought, Michael, but I don’t dare drink this p>
Penelope and Lilian had a very productive conversation. By the time they
emerged from the restaurant, a heavy rain was falling.
She had assumed Zebulon would be long gone, but she saw him huddled under
the eaves for shelter, constantly glancing back inside.
He was still waiting for her.
She told Lilian to go on ahead, then headed back into the restaurant to ask a server if there was a rear exit.
Having had a drink, she didn’t want to get into another confrontation with Zebulon and risk being at a disadvantage.
As fate would have it, she ran right into Michael, who was stumbling out of a private room, gagging and retching.
Curious, she peeked into the room and saw Theodore, a cigarette dangling from
his lips, leaning back in his chair with a crooked, roguish smile.